Two weeks ago, last time it was my turn to write for Contact, I couldn’t write on Tuesday, like I usually do, because I was waiting to see how the election results came out. I couldn’t bring myself to write about an event that hadn’t happened yet, or to prepare two different versions of the same thing, for publication based on how the results came out. And today I find myself in much the same position. I started writing this yesterday, but had to put it down, because I was waiting eagerly to see if the forecasted good news would truly come to pass: would it really rain? My contact-writing time was spent checking various sources of weather-related news, wondering, guesstimating, hoping and praying for rain. But this morning I awoke to a soothing sound – that softer sound the traffic going by makes when the road is wet. After checking air quality I even cracked a window open and smelled it. It’s here!
Many of you have gotten out of town, if you were able to, and so maybe you weren’t on tenterhooks like the rest of us. Schools closed and holiday coming made it easy to jump at the chance to get out of the smoke, that painful hourly reminder of the tragic loss of life and property so close to us in Paradise. Maybe it’s already raining where you are, or maybe it’s seventeen degrees and snowing. But I hope you’ll remember us back home and rejoice with us for the gift of rain.
Last weekend, when we were on our way to Tahoe — did you hear about that? The youth were slated for a retreat in Cazadero, where the air quality was beyond hazardous, and had an exciting emergency re-route to retreat in Tahoe instead! Anyway, on the ride out I was driving a car full of youth who are growing up in an apocalypse, who do not remember the days before climate change turned from an academic subject into a crisis, and who are getting used to fitting themselves for respirators and spending a few days every year hunkering down by the cozy glow of the air purifier. What a way to grow up. When I was young I read the “Ranger Rick” magazine, which wrote about the dangers of garbage and water pollution. The magazine framed the problem of global garbage pileup in in semi-apocalyptic terms but usually focused on how much better things would be if you (junior rangers) would just step up and lead your family to re-use, reduce, recycle. That’s how I grew up. But the apocalypse of today has a heavier emotional toll on young people, and fewer cheerful action items a kid can take to forestall it. The youth in our car, burning fossil fuels as we drove to Tahoe, asked “Why?” and as they asked they were thinking big-picture: why would God let us mess up the world this badly? Why would God give us the freedom to ruin everything? Unfortunately it’s hard to find answers to that deep a question. I think most people quickly default either to “because humans are awful” or “because God must not exist.” But at the core it’s the same question that Job asked, and the question we all ask, when a town is burned down, when our loved one gets cancer, when the ice cap melts. And even now, as we rejoice for the gift of rain, we also fear for those who may get affected by mudslides now, and we ask: why doesn’t God come and make it better?
I’d like to remind everyone that there are several middle places between “God must not exist” and “We deserve it because we’re awful.” There’s a certain depressiveness on each of those extreme sides, and a healthy flexibility in the middle. So, from the work of talking with the youth, brainstorming on my own, and later going through some theology textbooks to find more options, I’d like to present five in-betweeners for you to try on and see if they work for you, when you find yourself asking “Why doesn’t God intervene?”
- God is powerful, but God is not very good. One of the teens took this idea and ran, characterizing God as a drunk frat boy just throwing things around the heavens. This idea works well in cartoons.*
- God is someone/something good, but whoever they are, they are not the ultimate power. Rather, they** are a “Higher Power” who can do some things, but swooping down and vacuuming the carbon out of the air is not one of them.
- God could swoop in and fix it, but she won’t, because that wouldn’t be the most loving action for her to do. Like a mother who doesn’t step in to keep her children from falling as they learn to walk, God wants us humans to make collective mistakes and learn together.
- God ended up with limited power, because he handed some power over to humans. God wanted to love us as free beings who were not under his control, and so now he can’t fix our mistakes any more. He’s waiting (and hoping) to see if we can do it.
- It’s all a divine mystery and humans can’t understand it, but we need to trust it’s working out for the best. (See Ben’s recent sermon on Job for more on this idea).
*note: Christians usually shy away from using this theology, but Jews are a little more comfortable with it. See, for example, the psalms of lament which angrily argue with God for better treatment.
**note: you know how to use “they” pronouns in situations like this, where someone’s identity is uncertain. Imagine God as trans-gender or inter-gender, choosing to use “they” pronouns: it works the same.
So, is this rain a merciful divine intervention? Or is that not the kind of intervention God would give us? Well, it depends on your theology. MPC welcomes all, and though not all of us can be in the car with the youth group driving to Tahoe, all our theologies can be in that conversation. If you don’t recognize your theology of divine intervention (or non-intervention) listed above, then drop me a note or meet me for coffee — I’d love to add to my collection of theologies. When things get tough, we need to be theologically flexible, and the more options you have, the better!
Every Blessing,
Talitha
PS: You may enjoy this slideshow of pictures from the youth’s retreat to Cazadero Tahoe at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVmqpDbm5OY&t=2s